


Once Upon An October

by minerrvas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Halloween Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minerrvas/pseuds/minerrvas
Summary: October, 1912. The Faith of the Light has turned England upside down, having surprised the country with its radical and effective methods. The members are turned into various monsters upon joining and, when they aren’t sleeping, are ravaging every corner of human civilization. All Abigail knows is that she once belonged to that movement and now is surviving on the streets as a third class woman with no recollection of her previous identity. A fateful encounter may have the potential to change that and bring her back to her old life - or what’s left of it. A tale of discovery, demons and what it means to be and become a part of a family.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shefollowedfires](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shefollowedfires/gifts).



> For Emily (@shefollowedfires on Tumblr) as her Halloween gift. Get spooking!

**_CHAPTER ONE_ **

 

**_In which Abigail possibly saves a life._ **

 

The rain splattered onto the dark pavement unrelentingly. The sound was like ghosts waltzing their way through the unlit streets, waltzing away from the storm that had arrived not too long ago. In the far distance, a wolf was howling.

It was sometime after midnight - Abigail couldn’t really keep track. The windows on the houses around her were dark, indicating no sign of life. The street was fully deserted except for her. She drew her brown coat tighter around her, blinking regularly to keep the raindrops out of her eyes. In this dense storm, the street in front of her seemed endless, just like the path she was treading.

What she needed was a place to hide. Walking in plain sight was like making yourself a target, and it didn’t matter whether the moon was lighting up the landscape or the sun. What she needed was to get away from the creatures, both the monstrous and human. The first was self-evident - the latter…

The last time Abigail had had contact with humans, they had tried to kill her.

She remembered the encounter clearly. She had come across the small group in a village not too far gone, hoping for shelter from the merciless world around them. _Bloodsucker_ , they had called her before attempting to shoot her skull off, leaving her no time to explain that she no longer belonged to that side of their world. Mere luck had enabled her to escape, although their goodbye gift had been a stray gunshot wound to her left hand.

That hand was bandaged now, on the road of healing, and with her right hand she opened the door to a random unlocked house, hoping there was nobody and nothing inside. None of the monsters should be here at this time. Owing to the ordeals the Faith of the Light had made her go through, she knew all about the rotations, the places the monsters usually were at and at what hour. The howls shattering the silence of the night made her uncomfortably aware that she wasn’t part of that group anymore - it was both discomfort and relief. Abigail was no monstrosity anymore herself, but she also _remained_ in the dark because she didn’t know about their new plans. Everything, including her own life, seemed to be an uncertainty.

What was she surviving for?

She remembered nothing but hunting, killing, feeding, sleeping, peace, peace, peace, then all of it on repeat… Her life as a monster - a _bloodsucker_ \- was the only life she’d known. A thick, colourless blank lay on everything before. Now? Now she was Abigail. In a world where people were supposed to have last names, she felt like a nobody.

What was she surviving for?

Thankfully, nothing creaked as she cautiously closed the door behind her, blocking the chill from streaming into the slightly warmer inside. Wiping a soaked strand of hair out of her face and feeling grateful the rain hadn’t completely loosened her chignon, she immediately went for a tour of discovery around the ground floor. The furniture looked middle class and certainly better than anything she remembered possessing in her life. For now, the house seemed to be soulless except for her, yet... The knife at her belt felt even colder than her own fingers as she pulled it out and held it in front of her in a tight grip. Enough drinks, food, warmth. Right now, those were her ambitions for life, the prominent images in her mind as she wandered through the rooms.

Her eyes and hands were searching the kitchen cabinets, just having found a good-looking loaf of dark bread, as sounds came from the first floor above. Abigail stilled.

Swallowed.

Breathed faster.

Fought to keep her rapid heartbeat under control.

Breathed faster.

Strained her ears to catch more - then realized those were sounds coming from a _piano_.

She hadn’t ever known a monster to randomly start playing instruments during a hunting phase, but she couldn’t imagine why a human would want to make such noise either. Especially with the howling coming nearer…

_The howling._

What was that daft person _doing_?

Stuffing the bread into the bag hanging at her side, Abigail abruptly left the kitchen and crept up the stairs with the highest speed that was possible without making too much noise. The knife in her right hand was shaking - her fingers were shaking, whether from the cold or the adrenaline running through her bloodstream, she didn’t know - but the moon shining through the windows illuminated her fierce brown eyes. The piano wouldn’t stop loudly sounding across the house, and probably across the whole damn street as well, which made her walk faster towards the source. She didn’t recognize the artist - she didn’t need to to know that playing with a wolf, a _monster_ , nearby was the equivalent of a death wish.

She had been a monster herself for long enough to be able to tell the difference between a mere animal and a shapeshifter.

When Abigail arrived at the room the tune was coming from, she stopped short on the threshold. Sitting in front of the black piano, touching the keys with such intensity yet care, was a little blonde girl. Her hair was worn down in two braids and she wore a simple white dress. She looked bizarrely untouched by the horror of the outside world. Abigail took a careful step nearer and mentally corrected herself as the girl’s head swiveled around to look at her, realizing she wasn’t alone anymore. _Untouched_ except for the sad glint in her chestnut eyes, only momentarily giving way to surprise. The tune ended off-key as the girl’s hands came to a sudden halt, hovering in the air above the black and white keys, petrified just like the rest of her posture. Time stopped for a moment where both were stuck scrutinizing the other. Abigail unwound a bit when she realized this girl wasn’t someone likely to recognize her from her past hunts and execute her on the spot.

“Why were you playing the piano?” the woman cut straight to the point, breaking the silence. _Silence?_ The howling had stopped, she realized with sudden urgency. Light sweat broke out on her skin. She clenched her jaw. It was almost painful.

“I- I-” the girl stuttered, her terror-stricken eyes glued to the knife Abigail was holding. The latter lowered it, feeling a little ashamed she had just pointed the tip of a blade at a child, but nevertheless kept it in her hand for other dangerous contingencies.

“Are you alone?” she urged, impatience creeping into her voice. She needed to get out of here - _they_ needed to get out of here, if the girl was indeed alone, and _fast_ . Said person nodded and a weight fell off Abigail’s heart, despite this emergency. The girl’s sad expression spoke of silent tragedies, yet the woman preferred protecting a child over protecting herself against any murderous groups. It was an instinct she hadn’t known she possessed, and suddenly, the girl’s face in front of her morphed into another face entirely. Another face that was just as young, with hair that was a little blonder, a face that was far more _familiar_ … In the next second, that face was gone and the illusion she’d been trapped in was broken by the sound of the girl’s voice.

“What?” The girl had stood up from her piano chair and was examining her with eyes that remained just as panic-stricken yet had a mite of curiosity and confusion to them.

“Excuse me- Did you say something?” Abigail inquired, the frown on her face a display of just as much confusion.

“You said _Clarke_ ,” the girl specified, her voice slowly coming down from its anxious high. It disconcerted the woman even more.

“No, I didn’t. Who is Clarke?” The girl shrugged. “...What is _your_ name?”

“Charlotte,” was the meek answer.

“Charlotte,” Abigail repeated, probing how the name sounded on her tongue, then determined any further pleasantries should be put off for the moment. The howling had stopped, but now she had no idea of where the wolf was anymore. They could have gone into the other direction - or straight to her and the girl. “I am Abigail. We need to go. If you have anything-”

“No!” Charlotte shot out, a desperate look on her face. The older woman took a hurried step towards the girl, putting a wet glove to her mouth.

“Shh,” Abigail cautioned, her brown irises backing down from her dilating pupils. “You cannot shout like that. _Anybody_ could be in the area. Bad people. Do you know that?” She lifted her hand from Charlotte’s mouth a bit to allow her to answer, ready to muffle any further shouts.

“I know,” the girl whispered, having taken the clue. Her chestnut eyes were big and too innocent for the world as she looked directly into the woman’s. “I know. That’s why I want to shout, and why I made music. I want to die, Abigail.”

Those shy words left said woman dumbstruck. She couldn’t quite prevent her mouth from dropping open at the declaration and her hand falling limply to her side. This girl looked to be slightly older than 10 and had seemed quite serious when announcing she didn’t want to live anymore. Abigail fervently thought about what to say when Charlotte relieved her of that task.

“My parents died because of the monsters. They had told me to hide up here before they came and- and I don’t know where my family is now but I- I know they cannot be alive…” The girl’s voice had thickened with grief over time and Abigail couldn’t help but bend down and cup Charlotte’s face with her hands, stroking the latter’s cold rose cheeks with her fingers. Charlotte’s eyes came to equal a brown ocean. “I- I want to be with them, Abigail-”

“Shush, darling,” said woman murmured, although determined. “You’re young. Do you think your parents would want you to get yourself murdered?” The girl’s jaw tensed, offering no answer. “No, they wouldn’t. The world is a dark place right now, I know. But-” She almost said _Let us have a bit of faith_ , but that last word reminded her too much of the reason the world had become a dark place in the first place, so she settled for, “ _We need to hold onto hope._ Just for a bit longer. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Charlotte remained quiet for a few seconds, a few seconds of silence which unnerved her because they really needed to _get out of here_. Then the girl nodded shakily and Abigail let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She smiled - it was unsteady and not quite big, but it was there. It had been a few days since she had done that.

“Good.” With a last stroke of Charlotte’s cold cheeks, she straightened her spine, assuming a determined posture once again. “Wherever you hid, if somebody is near, they will know we’re here. Hiding isn’t an option, especially if they stay or visit again. We will find a safer place. Put on something warm and don’t stray, Charlotte.”

With that, Abigail took the girl’s hand. It was the first human hand she’d touched in some time, and it was warm.

 

Opening the door to the dark, rainy street outside still felt cold, but different with a child at her side. There was something about practically having become the guardian of a minor in a near-apocalyptic world that sent chills down Abigail’s spine. She hadn’t expected it to happen. It had happened within minutes - scratch that, she had appointed herself as Charlotte’s protector as soon as it had become clear the girl had no one else. The fact that it had felt so _natural_ was more disturbing than anything else, and despite the bizarreness of the situation - then again, what wasn’t bizarre nowadays? - the wall around Abigail’s heart was getting warmer. Not that she planned on letting it tumble down anytime soon, but… Although the sun wasn’t shining right now, she could feel the first small rays on her skin. They spoke of hope and her heart sang of determination in return.

As if sensing their presence in the dark, the wolf started to howl again.

No.

Wolves.

Louder.

Nearer.

Dangerously so.

Abigail narrowly avoided cursing. Looking to their right, she saw their animalistic silhouettes in the far distance, running, climbing, jumping off walls, everything in their direction and entirely _too fast_. For a moment, the only thing present was her heartbeat drumming in her ears. Then, logic set in and her conscience clicked with the sensory world around her.

“We need to run and lose them,” she breathed loudly. The echo of her words was a white shadow in the air - but Charlotte and she were already gone. Running. Running into the opposite direction, the girl’s warm hand in her left hand, the cold knife in her right one. No matter how hard Abigail tried, the rhythm of her feet wasn’t quite as fast as that of her heart. Not quite.

She was only thankful the heels on the underside of her shoes were nearly non-existent.

Before them were houses and darkness. Behind them was the louder-getting sound of death. What she needed were opportunities and ideas to get them out _alive_. The buildings at their sides vanished in a rush as they ran. It was all a rush and she had to keep from slowing down to pinch herself as her mind made her see her life go by in a rush as well. A short life.

Too.

Short.

“I can…” Charlotte began, sounding entirely out of breath while trying to keep up with the woman beside her. “I can delay them so you…”

“ _No,_ ” Abigail cut her off, putting all her air into the word. It happened with such force and intensity, she was almost surprised herself, but she needed to make sure Charlotte understood this was no time for voicing one’s suicidal thoughts. “We’ll lose them,” she continued, a little more subdued, concentrating on getting enough oxygen. _Please…_ Her brown eyes flicked around, looking for every possible escape. She wasn’t going to lose the only person she’d ever known that didn’t think of her as a monster, that didn’t know her to be a monster. She was gripping onto that little ray of hope like it was her lifeline. She was gripping Charlotte’s hand a little tighter. The pain it caused her own still injured hand was ignorable for now.

But _would_ they lose them? If you used a word again and again, didn’t that usually mean you were lying?

Abigail abruptly pulled the girl with her as she turned the corner into a side alley she managed to spy. In front of them lay a closed black fence gate, standing tall and leading to a house’s back garden. Her heart stopped for a moment. _No. Please tell me I haven’t just led this child and myself to an impasse._ She ran up to the gate with Charlotte in tow, touching the black lacquer with her gloved hands and attempting to push against the metal with her whole body. When it didn’t budge, she kept pushing, wanting it to open by sheer willpower, but to no avail.

 _Oh no,_ Abigail told herself as frustrated tears sprang into her eyes, _no, I haven’t spent days running just to die running._ In a dark side alley, nonetheless. No, no, no…

“Charlotte.” The idea hit her like lightning. “Climb up the gate, be careful at the top.” She stowed her knife into one of her boots. Her hands formed a pond-like shape as support for the girl’s feet, bending her knees a little for easier access.

“What?”

“ _Now_ , Charlotte.” Her impatience was growing louder by the second just like the sound of wolves somewhere behind them. Abigail did her best to exhibit a stern face, resembling the one her deceased mother had always used while chiding her. It seemed to work - Charlotte trusted her enough to put one foot into the woman’s hands before grasping at the top of the fence and Abigail gritted her teeth at the torture it caused her left hand. She was grateful for the trust, although invisible fingers were playing an agonized tune on her heartstrings. She didn’t want to let the girl go so soon again and worried for her safety as well but...

If someone delayed the wolves, Abigail would make damn sure it was her.

She knew for sure the hairy beasts had caught up to them when, looking up, she saw Charlotte’s eyes widen and the hands grasping the fence beginning to shake. The desire to give in herself, falter in what seemed a nearly hopeless situation was as huge as an ocean’s wave, but she kept steady for the child. She wouldn’t fail in this last task.

“Climb, Charlotte,” Abigail ordered, her voice wavering a little too much for her liking. “Please.” It was ironic and not funny at all how fast a command could shift into a plea, and how fast the sounds of the outside world could vanish into the loud drums of her raging bloodstream.

She felt both lighter and heavier when the child had reached the top with no further need for her support, the bandaged wound on her left hand silently screaming with relief. Abigail pulled the blade out of her boot and stood up in one fluent movement. Her ears were screaming so loud for a few seconds, she thought she might pass out.

When she turned around, she stared into death’s face.

Three wolves were staring back. Their mouths - open to reveal their teeth. Yet they were making no hungry noise. Their eyes - glaring yellow. Yet they had no light in them. Their fur - a mix of brown and red. Yet one colour was the colour of blood.

The monsters were sprawled out on the floor, rather awkwardly, unmoving. Blood was pooling beneath their corpses, oozing out of what looked to be gunshot wounds (she’d had experience with those, after all).

It took Abigail a numb moment to register she wasn’t going to get mauled by beasts right now. It took her another moment to realize there was a man standing on the other side of the corpsefield.


End file.
